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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512037">Irregularities</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscure/pseuds/chiaroscure'>chiaroscure</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>What We Do in the Shadows (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, M/M, Pre-Canon, canon-typical creepiness factor but played less for laughs, fragment collection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 08:09:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscure/pseuds/chiaroscure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Guillermo’s relationship with fear could be described as unusual, in that he is immune to most of the horrors he encounters on a nightly basis. Once in a while, though, a little mortal terror slips through the cracks.</p><p>Guillermo character study, 2009 to present</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Guillermo de la Cruz &amp; Nandor the Relentless, Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 2009</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>February 15, 2009</em>
</p><p>It is just after midnight, and Guillermo has been home for twenty minutes. He has been as quiet as possible to avoid waking his mother: the apartment is small, and the walls are thin. But Guillermo often gets home late, so he is good at locking the door, setting his bag down softly, and creeping across the floor to get ready for bed without disturbing her. He planned to get home earlier so he could stay up for a few hours working on the online courses he started last year, but, well his plans changed on his way home from work. He’s not sure he’ll be able to sleep, but he doubts he’ll be able to focus on his digital database assignment either.</p><p>Everything seems normal. The process of undressing to his briefs and undershirt is normal; dropping his clothes in the hamper is normal; washing his face is normal. He is a little absent-minded, but he goes through this routine every night, and he can do it on automatic even when he’s dead tired — which he definitely isn’t, at the moment.</p><p>But then he almost gags on his toothbrush when, without warning, his hand shakes violently while he’s going over his molars. Startled, he puts the toothbrush down on the side of the sink as tremors wrack his arms and his half-brushed teeth chatter loudly in the quiet bathroom. His heart is pounding high in his chest like someone has just declared their passionate love for him, and when he looks in the mirror, there’s a flushed glow to his cheeks, brightened all the more by his wide grin.</p><p>He chokes on hysteria that threatens to bubble up out of his throat as everything that happened tonight hits him like a punch to the gut.</p><p>“He’s a <em>vampire</em>,” he murmurs to his elated reflection. “Oh my <em>God</em>, he’s a fucking <em>vampire</em>.”  </p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>March 28, 2009</em>
</p><p>Guillermo’s mouth is dry as he and the guy — Tim — approach the agreed-upon spot. It’s supposed to be a maybe-date, and Tim seems to believe that that’s genuinely what’s going on.</p><p>There’s a tight ball of calm in Guillermo’s chest keeping his nerves at bay — nerves which, ironically, would probably be making him trip over his own words if this were a real date. Tim is a year or two older than him, charming in a nerdy sort of way, and not at all bad looking. Despite Tim being a kind of great catch by his own standards, though, Guillermo can tell he has managed to be normal this whole time.</p><p>There’s some art house movie on at an old theater that Tim wants to see, so that’s where they are headed. The area isn’t very popular or well-lit, and Guillermo scoped out a shadowy stretch of sidewalk by an alleyway that seems perfect for hunting, as he understands it. He has never been asked to be present for this before; so far, he has located a few potential hunting grounds, but this is the first time he has actually been asked to <em>bring </em>someone in-person. The vampire hasn’t said anything to suggest this is meaningful, but Guillermo can’t help but feel like he has passed a test. He still hasn’t been to the vampire’s house, but maybe if he makes a successful enough lure/chaperone/whatever, he’ll get to see it.  </p><p>He has no idea how he has been able to maintain the conversation with an even voice given how distracted he is; he can hear himself talking, but he isn’t really paying attention to what he’s saying. He is too busy glancing at every street sign trying to make sure he doesn’t accidentally walk past the spot, checking his watch several times a minute to make sure he’s neither late nor early. They’re making really good time, though, and no one is out, and Tim doesn't seem to have spotted any serious red flags. None that are bad enough to cut the night off early, anyway.</p><p>Guillermo takes one step into the shadow that marks his destination and stops, hands going to his pockets in a perfect imitation of someone who forgot something important.</p><p>“Crap, I think I left my phone in the car,” he says when Tim looks at him quizzically. “Hold on, I’ll just run back and get it. You should go ahead; I’ll catch up.”</p><p>Tim hesitates for a moment, but ultimately says, “sure, yeah, okay,” just as Guillermo expected he would. Tim’s jacket doesn’t look heavy enough for the weather, and he’s had his gloveless hands shoved in his pockets the whole time the two of them have been outside. Guillermo rushes a few yards back before stopping, turning back around just in time.</p><p>The figure that emerges looks like an extension of the shadows but thicker, realer, more tangible. It steps silently out from the darkness just behind Tim’s back, just a haunting specter for a split second before it reaches out with perfect precision to pull its prey to itself, too quickly for Tim even to make a sound. Guillermo is rooted to the ground where he stopped, the predatory power, the graceful brutality, the razor-sharp focus he has the privilege of witnessing taking his breath away. <em>I did this</em>, he marvels, pride swelling in his chest as he watches the vampire drink from, drain, and drop the lifeless body to the ground.</p><p>His heart jumps when the shadow emerges again from the lip of the alleyway, this time sweeping toward where Guillermo still stands several paces away. He stares up in awe, remembering to feel neither guilt nor fear at the bright red blood shining on the vampire’s lips.</p><p>“Mm, that was very nice, Guillermo,” Nandor the Relentless tells him happily, and gives him a hesitant pat on the shoulder. Guillermo beams at the praise. “Good job. Could you put him a little farther back in there? I do not want anybody to trip over his feet.”</p><p>Guillermo glances around the vampire’s impressively cloaked shoulders. Sure enough, one of Tim’s old high tops is sticking conspicuously out of the alleyway. Guillermo nods.</p><p>“Thank you,” Nandor says. “Next time it would be great if you could bring them to my home; I have had all the ones I was keeping for later stolen again…do you know how to use the electronic mail?”</p><p>“Email? Yes, yeah, I do,” Guillermo replies, still a little breathless. Nandor looks pleased.</p><p>“I will have the address sent to you. Do not share it with anybody.”</p><p>He does not wait for a response from Guillermo before gliding past him to go. Guillermo turns like a leaf in the wind in Nandor’s wake to watch him disappear into the night.</p><p>“Wait!” Guillermo calls after him in a sudden panic. The vampire turns with an expression somewhere between alarm and annoyance. Guillermo curses himself, but continues. “Don’t you need my email address?”</p><p>“Do I…?” At first Guillermo isn’t sure if this is a question he is supposed to answer, but Nandor continues before Guillermo tries to respond. “Yes, of course I do, that was a test. Good job again, Guillermo. Do you have paper?”</p><p>Guillermo mirrors his earlier pocket pat with a sinking feeling, knowing full well he does not have any paper.</p><p>“No, I’m really sorry, I don't. But do you have a phone? I could enter it there, or text it to you?”</p><p>“I don’t know what…forget it, I will get back to you eventually.”</p><p>Guillermo has no idea what getting back to him eventually means to someone who is probably at least a couple hundred years old, but he’s not sure he wants to bank on it being on his own timescale.</p><p>Trying not to sound too desperate, he offers, “I could put your address in my phone? Then you wouldn’t even have to email me.”</p><p>The vampire looks a little put out at having to delay his departure, but he shrugs. “Sure, yes, that is fine.”</p><p>Guillermo pulls out his phone (which he did not, in fact, forget in the car) and carefully types in the address the vampire gives him. His thumbs leave a salty residue on the screen.</p><p>“Okay,” Nandor says with an air of finality when Guillermo lowers the phone. “That is all? This week would be good for me. But only come at night; I don’t think Laszlo and Nadja’s familiar is working out too well, and somebody will need to let you in. Okay? Alright, bye-bye Guillermo.”</p><p>“Bye,” Guillermo murmurs as Nandor sweeps around the corner. He holds is phone clenched tightly in his hand, the information saved to it making it feel weightier somehow. More important.</p><p>He looks at the address again, his heart fluttering giddily as he reads the little black figures on the screen. Then he heads toward the alley to drag Tim’s body farther back into the shadows, before anybody can spot him.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>April 30, 2009</em>
</p><p>Living in the vampires’ house is amazing. Every surface is covered in centuries-old artifacts, each with its own significance to the residents of the grand Victorian mansion. Guillermo has never been in a place like it before. He doesn’t even care that his bedroom is essentially a doorless closet; everything else more than makes up for that.</p><p>The vampires themselves are incredible. They don’t pay much attention to him, but that’s probably for the best. Everything they do is like something from a different world; Guillermo can hardly believe he gets to exist in the midst of these creatures of his dreams. He’s always busy; the others order him to do a lot beyond what his master asks of him despite having their own familiar, but he goes along with it; he’s still so new here, and he wants to prove his worth to them.</p><p>He doesn’t get much free time, but in the moments he gets to himself, he sketches things that catch his eye around the house. The staircases as seen from the entryway, one of the antique lamps in the fancy room, a skull he’s pretty sure isn’t human. The vampires themselves are his favorite subjects, though: he has been studying their portraits in stolen glances while he does his work, daydreaming about the possibility of making something that is itself good enough to be put up on one of the walls here. He doesn’t have the skills or the materials yet, and he has to draw from memory since he can’t ask them to pose for him, but if he keeps at it, maybe some day he’ll have something worth showing them.</p><p>He’s so lost in that fantasy while he works on his latest effort to get his master’s profile right that he doesn’t give a second thought to being asked to bury a body for the first time. He digs the shovel into the soft dirt in the yard, hitting a rhythm as he tries to fine-tune the details of his mental representation of his master’s face. The shrouded body drops into the hole easily once he figures out that rolling it is easier than dragging, and he wonders how often the vampires commission artists to represent them. Do they usually know the artists personally? He contemplates that question while dumping dirt back into the pit he dug and patting it down once he’s done.</p><p>It doesn’t occur to him to think twice about the fact that Nadja and Laszlo’s familiar isn’t around anymore after that, or why he was the one who took on grave duty that night. He <em>knows</em> why, at some level, but he doesn’t really <em>think</em> about it until the novelty starts to wear off a few months later, and by then he’s so used to this sort of thing that it doesn’t feel important. That night, he just takes a shower, and goes back to his drawing.</p><p>It turns out pretty well, in his opinion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2009-2010</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Guillermo settles into his role as a familiar. As the novelty fades, some unexpected anxieties start to surface.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>October 9, 2009</em>
</p><p>Guillermo has been learning more about Staten Island during the daylight hours. He has gotten a lot better at picking ‘drop-off locations,’ such as they are, and by now he has a short list of the ones that work the best for both short-range hunting and clean-up. He tries not to overuse spots, though; Nandor is more of a hunter than Nadja or Laszlo in that he finds the finer tactical aspects of predation exciting, so Guillermo likes to keep it interesting for him.</p><p>Tonight, they are trying out a new place. There is a park a fair distance from the house where someone is usually taking a midnight stroll, for some reason. Near the middle of the park, a dead-end pathway branches off at an odd angle, and at the end of that pathway, the trees hide a bench that is near, but not under, an old pole lamp. The lonely-midnight-walk people end up on this bench at surprising rates, despite it being a place Guillermo imagines would be ideal for muggings even in broad daylight.</p><p>He has been saving this location for when it felt right, and tonight is the night. About a third of the leaves have fallen off the trees, which means that it is easy to hear approaching footsteps. This gives people a false sense of safety when the area around them is quiet, since they expect to be able to hear others approaching them. The complex auditory information could be a fun element for his master to interact with, Guillermo guesses, especially with the cold October breeze making leaves skitter across the ground unpredictably.</p><p>During the day, the leaves remaining on the trees are glowing oranges and reds, but the colors look dull in the darkness surrounding them as Guillermo walks alongside Nandor through the park. He almost asks if the vampire can see the colors with his night vision; his master is pretty amenable to being asked about things like that when it’s just the two of them, especially if Guillermo doesn’t lean too heavily on the “I want to know what to expect when I’m a vampire some day” angle, but they’re close to the spot now and he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to them.</p><p>Nandor must be able to tell that they are almost there; the way he walks always shifts subtly right before the hunt truly begins. It makes Guillermo’s skin buzz with electricity to be near during these moments that the vampire’s power is most tangible. The supernatural energy emanates from him, the black of his hair deepening somehow, the shadows his browbones cast over his eyes intensifying his face sharply.</p><p><em>He’s incredible</em>, Guillermo thinks for the thousandth time when they get to the opening of the dead-end path. The feeling behind the thought gets a little more familiar every time, though the reverence never fades.</p><p>A distracted-looking man smoking a cigarette comes into view in front of the bench. Nandor’s lip curls into a smile, and Guillermo takes this as his cue to stop walking. He always keeps out of sight for the actual kill: his presence is neither needed nor noted at the climax of a hunt, and he doesn’t want to disrupt his master’s strategy.</p><p>The vampire cuts along the very edge of the trail, engulfed in the darkness of the trees and utterly silent. He prefers to approach from behind; he likes the element of surprise.</p><p>The wind blows, causing the leaves to swirl around Guillermo’s feet and the man looks up. But Guillermo is too well disguised in the shadows to be spotted, so the man goes back to his thoughts.</p><p>Nandor is nothing more than a faint shape from his position just on the man’s far side. It’s not a clear shot; he will have to go around the bench — Guillermo sees him hesitate, planning his attack before he goes in for the kill. He steps forward; if the guy turned around now, he would be able to see him in the glow of the oddly placed lamp. But he doesn’t, and for a split second, Nandor’s eyes, shining black with deadly exhilaration, meet Guillermo’s across the path.</p><p>The guy never stood a chance. Nandor is on him before he can even register what is happening, cold hands yanking him back, sharp fangs buried in his neck.</p><p>Guillermo cannot breathe. This must be how a rabbit feels after locking eyes with a wolf, body rigid and heartbeat speeding to double, triple its normal rate. A cold terror grips his chest, his lungs frozen as he watches, petrified, as his master makes quick work of his victim. Despite having been a familiar for half a year now, Guillermo has never actually locked eyes with a vampire in the moments before a kill before. There are words ringing through his ears but he can’t make them out, but he suspects they have something to do with the sudden, stark, <em>sickening</em> new awareness that there is something fundamentally <em>wrong </em>with Nandor, that his power is not just supernatural but also awful and inhuman, and that, at his core, Guillermo is much, <em>much </em>more similar to the man with the cigarette than he is to this impossible, blood-thirsty walking corpse.  </p><p>When Nandor lets go of the body and looks back up, Guillermo registers the blinding terror of the seconds before as some form of near-religious rapture.</p><p>He can still practically taste his own mortality on his tongue as Nandor returns to his side, but they start walking, and his legs carry him alongside his master back out of the park on automatic anyway.</p><p>“You have picked a place with very pretty leafs, Guillermo,” Nandor comments when the street comes into view.</p><p>Guillermo chances a glimpse at him out of the corner of his eye. Nandor looks the way he usually does to him again, observing their surroundings good-naturedly. Guillermo smiles at the ground. Whatever happened to him back there must have been a glitch.</p><p>Just the same, he finds he can’t quite relax in the house until the sun comes up that morning.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>October 10, 2009</em>
</p><p>When Guillermo wakes up the next evening with an anxious knot still in his stomach, he wonders if he’s going to start thinking of himself as potential prey all the time now. But then he accompanies his master to the grocery store, which they get thrown out of after an incident involving wax fangs in the candy aisle. Fearsome creature of the night Nandor the Relentless might be, but Guillermo finds he can’t stay scared of someone huffing childishly on the wrong side of a pair of automatic doors.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>October 28, 2009</em>
</p><p>Guillermo has taken it upon himself to dust all the paintings in the house. He noticed when he moved in that the colors are duller than they probably should be, but he has not been confident in his ability to handle old art without damaging it to try anything much before. Now, though, he has a stack of inter-library loan books on art restoration in his bedroom that go into more detail than he probably needs, and he’s at least skimmed all of them. Dusting should be fine for a first pass; he can decide later if he wants to try anything more complicated once he sees what this does.</p><p>This is a portrait of Nadja that he’s working on now, presumably done some time in the 18<sup>th</sup> century based on her clothing. He’s getting better with identifying things like that, thanks mostly to his own research, but also partly to offhand comments from Nadja and Laszlo, and whatever he can manage to retain from random lectures Colin Robinson makes. The grime isn’t as thick on this painting as on some of the older pieces, and Guillermo wonders idly if that’s because of its age or because it’s a favorite. It’s an alright rendering, he thinks, but not the best in her extensive collection. Do the artists who paint her — or any of them, really — know what their subject is? He runs his microfiber cloth carefully along the edges of the frame, trying to read the artist’s signature.</p><p>A hand swats his arm away from the portrait, and he stifles a startled yelp.</p><p>“What are you doing with my painting, pawing and scratching at it like that?” Nadja chides him, gesturing accusatorily at the half-dusted artwork. Her lip curls back from her fangs as she speaks, her eyes pinning him where he stands. Guillermo’s mind screams inarticulate certainty at him, pleads for him to get out of there, to run — but his muscles, inexplicably rigid and frozen, refuse to move.</p><p>“Nandor, tell your familiar to stop poking his nosy little nose into my possessions; he’s been doing something to one of my best portraits from Laszlo with his sticky human hands,” Nadja yells loudly enough for Nandor to hear her from wherever he might be in the house, though she does not look away from Guillermo. He realizes he hasn’t been breathing. He manages to draw some air shakily into his lungs.</p><p>“I was just dusting the frame,” he says, throat beginning to de-constrict. Nadja frowns, but her eyes dart to the painting. Guillermo feels his mind and body settling down rapidly, such that he’s back to normal by the time Nadja looks at him again.</p><p>“Well be more careful; do you know what you are doing? Do not touch my things unless I tell you to.” The lack of criticism tells Guillermo that she is not actually unsatisfied with his work, despite her tone.</p><p>“I won’t.” He nods deferentially, taking note of the instruction as justification <em>not </em>to touch any of Nadja’s things as a defense to use the next time she criticizes him for neglecting her belongings. It won’t matter; she’ll still complain, but it’ll be nice to feel self-righteous, at least.</p><p>She stalks off to complain to Nandor about something else instead, leaving Guillermo to wonder what the hell that spike of fear was about.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>November 20, 2009</em>
</p><p>Cleaning out the cell is Guillermo’s least favorite chore. He finds it especially unpleasant when some of the people there are still conscious; it is difficult having to ignore them while he hauls out the dead ones. The first time he had to do that, he made the mistake of responding to the pleading, but by now he knows just to keep his head down and pretend he doesn’t hear it.</p><p>Part of him resents having to do this job. Nandor often dines out, so to speak, and finishes his meals in one go; these are almost always Nadja and Laszlo’s victims, and Guillermo is not Nadja and Laszlo’s familiar. But their familiars always seem to lack either the stomach or the muscle for this, and cleaning up a decaying body is much worse than cleaning up a fresh one, so Guillermo does it without complaint. He has been working for Nandor for less than a year, after all; he doesn’t want to make a bad impression.</p><p>Guillermo takes a second to square his shoulders and rolls his neck as he prepares to enter the room. The last time he passed, there was at least one person still kicking around in there, but it's impossible to know what to expect. He reaches out for the handle, but he’s thrown off balance when the door bangs open, almost taking his hand off in the process.</p><p>Laszlo glances at him, red smeared across the lower half of his face. He smirks, the blood congealing in dark ropes between his teeth, and for some reason Guillermo can’t look away. The panic rises in his gut; he knows he needs to step back, to look down, or away, literally anywhere but at the gore and fangs visible in the vampire’s mouth, but he can’t; he can’t do anything but stare, everything else receding to irrelevance. The ground feels like it might fall out from under his feet, and he gulps, trying to swallow the scream of garbled words threatening to rip from his throat.</p><p>“Ah, Gizmo, perfect; here to clear out the pantry,” Laszlo drawls, apparently oblivious to Guillermo’s silent fit.</p><p>Guillermo can feel the cold sweat on his skin, but aside from that, the spell breaks the second Laszlo speaks, so he forces a half-smile and redirects his gaze to Laszlo’s knees. He tries to formulate a reply, but there’s no need; Laszlo is already sauntering away.</p><p>Guillermo ignores the odd feeling of borrowed time left in the wake of the short encounter. He opens the cell door to find two mercifully lifeless bodies on the floor and gets to work, reminding himself that, no matter what his irrational instincts might tell him, his life here isn’t a favor: it’s a payment.</p><p>*</p><p><em>January 3</em>,<em> 2010</em></p><p>The ritual of entering his master’s bedroom every evening, lighting the candles, and waiting for the sun to fully set is one of the best duties Guillermo performs as a familiar. The house is quiet around him but he never feels alone in Nandor’s room, surrounded as he is by trinkets, mementos, and the faint scent of amber resin. He lays garments out with care, always inspecting them for signs of damage before deeming them fit for another night’s wear. The cuffs of the sleeves he always sprays with rosewater from the ornate glass flacon on the dresser; it’s subtle, but it always seems appreciated. Surrounded by the warm flickering light, he feels like he’s participating in something ceremonial.</p><p>The atmosphere always changes a bit when he hears motion inside the coffin, but certainly not for the worse. This is a liminal time. Everything before the door to the room opens is still a part of the ritual, when the fundamental reason he is here is most tangible. He will open the lid to the coffin and help his master descend from it; Nandor will talk about whatever is on his mind; Guillermo will dress him and comb his hair and listen. It will be calming, pleasant…one might even say intimate, if one were feeling bold.</p><p>He hears his name muffled behind wood and rich lining, so he pushes the lid up for Nandor to rise. This moment is, as always, a shift: Nandor is ‘morning person,’ typically emerging with a good-natured greeting that should be at odds with the atmosphere but somehow never is.</p><p>Perhaps it is because of the peace in the room that the icy terror that clenches around Guillermo’s heart when the vampire’s corpse-cold hand takes his feels different than it did in the hallway with Nadja, or outside the cell with Laszlo. Perhaps it is because this time it’s <em>Nandor</em> who has made Guillermo’s stomach drop like he’s fallen out of his bed in his sleep that the feeling doesn’t completely freeze him like it has before. Perhaps it is because he has already entrusted Nandor with his life that the panicked chant in the back of his head is clear enough to understand this time.</p><p><em>You are going to die</em>, it says. <em>You are going to die. This Thing is going to kill you. This Thing is going to eat you. Nothing you can do can stop it. You are going to die.</em></p><p>Nandor smiles at him pleasantly. Guillermo lets out a shaky breath, and smiles back.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>May 20, 2010</em>
</p><p>For some reason, Guillermo thought glasses looked impossibly cool when he was a kid. A few of his classmates had to wear them to see the whiteboard, and he envied them for years until, in fifth grade, the school nurse informed him that he was near-sighted. His mother was skeptical of his excitement about the news, but she humored him as he tried different frames on that weekend until he found The Pair.</p><p>The world felt different when he put them on, with the prescription lenses and fit adjustments completed. He had never realized how detailed everything around him was; each individual leaf on every tree popped beautifully; the molding around the windows of buildings he passed in the street, the complexity of the color in the clouds overhead. He was positively giddy for a good few days, in constant awe of the way life seemed to shine around him and confident in how the glasses looked on his face.</p><p>The one problem was that they gave him a headache. He wasn’t used to having anything perched on the bridge of his nose all the time, or to the way the arms dug slightly into the sides of his head behind his ears. He didn’t want to take them off, but he was uncomfortably aware of them at inopportune moments, and his nerves just couldn’t seem to acclimate to them.</p><p>He did get used to it, though. After a while. The glasses fit fine; eventually enough time passed that he could ignore that he was wearing the glasses at all. It took a few months, maybe as long as a year, but eventually, he stopped needing to take breaks from wearing them all together.</p><p>Guillermo never thinks about his glasses at all now. He is still impressed with what they can do for his vision sometimes, but that’s all. He cleans them; updates the prescription if he needs to; but that’s it. They don’t register to him anymore; they are just a part of his everyday life. A part of him.</p><p>The fear of the vampires is like that, he muses as he puts on his glasses to begin his night. The cause of the anxiety attacks he started getting a few months ago isn't gone, it has just become normal. He has acclimated. The vampires are still awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure, but Guillermo has survived long enough that being around them is starting to get comfortable, neither overwhelmingly great nor overwhelmingly scary.</p><p>That night, he allows himself thirty seconds of quiet in the garden to admire the way the moonlight hits each individual leaf. Headache-free.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!</p><p>Next up: 2019, when new types of fear start to pop up.</p><p>Find me on tumblr at <a href="http://sinaesthete.tumblr.com">@sinaesthete</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 2019-2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>March 26, 2019</em>
</p><p>Guillermo is surrounded by monsters.</p><p>Further: Guillermo is surrounded by <em>dangerous</em> monsters.</p><p>Further still: Guillermo is surrounded by dangerous monsters <em>all the time</em>.</p><p>It will be ten years to the day tomorrow that Guillermo has been surrounded by dangerous monsters all the time, but he has somehow never had that exact thought before.</p><p>It’s weird, watching the documentary crew jump anxiously at things that don’t even register as interesting to Guillermo anymore. The first time it happened he almost laughed; getting skittish about Nadja’s tenuous relationship with gravity seems to Guillermo like nervousness about accent walls would seem to a normal person. It kept happening though, and Guillermo, as the crew’s only human connection in the house, quickly started to feel responsible for understanding where they’re coming from, if not for making them feel better about how things work around here.</p><p>The more he reflects on the crew’s reactions, the more he thinks they might have a point. Because yeah, they are all surrounded by <em>dangerous</em> monsters, <em>all the time</em>. And that’s a little…well, it’s a little different, he guesses.</p><p>What’s weirder even than how the crew acts around the vampires, though, is that they don’t really seem to think of Guillermo as being a <em>person</em> like they are. It’s not <em>bad </em>weird, just…unexpected. Not that Guillermo had any expectations about how they should perceive him. He is still mortal (for now) but in a lot of ways his reactions to the goings on in the house are much more similar to the vampires’ than to their guests’. He doesn’t have powers like the vampires; he’s not a threat like they are; he’s obviously a servant (again, for now), but he has the sneaking suspicion that these humans are a little bit afraid of him, too. He wonders if they think he’s creepy for being technically like them but so unfazed by everything, if he’s a kind of warped reflection of normalcy that might be even more insidious than the vampiric decadence on display here. The crew doesn’t flinch at anything Guillermo himself does, but they keep their distance more than is strictly necessary. Should he feel bad about that? Should he be worried? Like <em>existentially </em>worried? Or should he be <em>proud,</em> because outsiders see him as belonging more to this world than to their own?</p><p>He doesn’t know. And he can’t quite bring himself to care. Tomorrow is his ten-year anniversary as a familiar, and very possibly his last day as a living human person. He’ll be a vampire, and the doc crew will get used to the fear, just like he did.</p><p>…Well, assuming they last long enough to get used to it, anyway.    </p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>May 1, 2019</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.</em>
</p><p>Guillermo squeezes the little plastic toy.</p><p>Then again.</p><p>And again.</p><p>
  <em>I killed him. Oh Jesus, I killed him. I didn’t mean to kill him! </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t hear it squeak. Isn’t it supposed to squeak when you squeeze it?</p><p>
  <em>Nandor’s gonna kill me.</em>
</p><p>Maybe it’s squeaking and he just can’t hear it. Can he hear? He’s not sure he can hear anything right now.</p><p><em>What happens if he </em>doesn’t<em> kill me? There are laws, right? </em>Somebody’s<em> gonna kill me, even if it’s not him.</em></p><p>Squeeze.</p><p><em>If he doesn’t kill me, will somebody else kill </em>him<em>?</em></p><p>Squeeze.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Squeeze.</p><p><em>He’d better kill me. Goddammit. God fucking dammit, he had </em>better<em> kill me for this.</em></p><p>Squeeze.</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t think I was going to die this way. </em>
</p><p>Squeeze.</p><p>
  <em>Oh God, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Squeak.</strong>
</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>May 2, 2019</em>
</p><p>“It was I — I-I-<em>I</em> killed him,” Guillermo stammers to the Council.</p><p><em>Yeah, I’m definitely gonna die</em>, he thinks looking at their barely-interested faces, resigned. He hears the spark of nervous pride in his own voice too, though.</p><p>When they don’t believe him, the spark flares in indignation.</p><p>If he’s going to die, he wants it to at least be because of the thing he actually did. He didn’t spend ten years at the beck and call of a vampire just to become lunch for a room full of pompous randoms. He’s earned the right to be executed for his <em>crime</em>, because he’s a <em>threat</em>.</p><p>His palms are sweating, but at the same time, at some level, whatever. This might as well happen. He probably should have seen this coming. He <em>did</em> see this coming. If this gets the vampires — <em>his</em> vampires — out of hot water, then fine. He did his job, whether or not he gets the dignity he feels he’s owed. When was the last time anybody treated him with dignity anyway? Might as well die the way he lived and all that.</p><p>But then Nandor says, “<em>No</em>,” behind him. Guillermo hears him step forward. “I cannot abide by this!”</p><p>And for some reason, <em>that’s </em>when Guillermo’s heart kicks into overdrive. He lets out a shaky laugh, feeling almost faint with relief, but he’s also scared now in a way he wasn’t before as all those bloodthirsty eyes turn away from him, toward his master.</p><p><em>Well, shit</em>, he thinks, and prepares as best he can for whatever is going to happen next.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>June 1, 2019</em>
</p><p>The first assassin requires no thought to dispatch. The Count-Orlok-looking thing comes to the door and Guillermo invites him in (Nadja and Laszlo have plenty of weird friends), spots the stake, shivers hard, and seconds later there’s a dead vampire on the floor. It’s like in the Council hallway; the tool of vampiric destruction finds its way into Guillermo’s hands almost as if by magic, and it’s done.</p><p>He has a minor panic attack when the sun comes up. <em>I let an assassin into our home — I could have died — they could have been killed — it would have been my fault — I killed </em>another<em> vampire —</em> cold sweats, slight hyperventilation, a little light-headedness, etc. Nothing too bad, but still, it’s for the best that none of the vampires is awake to see it. Well, none of them but Colin Robinson on his way to work. But he, luckily — or maybe mercifully — leaves Guillermo alone.</p><p>It gets a lot easier after that.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>September 3, 2019</em>
</p><p>Nandor, over the years, has developed a habit of trailing around after Guillermo while Guillermo does things around the house. Nandor would never <em>admit </em>that he does this, and in fact he does his best to make it seem that it is <em>Guillermo</em> who is following <em>him</em>, but it would be clear to anybody paying any attention to them at all what is actually going on.</p><p>Guillermo understands this game, and he plays along with it because he enjoys his master’s company. Nandor often likes to converse about one thing or another while Guillermo works, telling stories from his own past or asking Guillermo for explanations of modern developments he lost track of fifty years ago or just chatting about whatever comes to mind. It’s more interesting than dusting alone, and it’s nice to know that his master, whatever he might pretend, does actively <em>choose</em> to be around him more often than not.</p><p>Guillermo doesn’t really notice this much anymore, of course. It’s nice, kind of comforting maybe, but it’s just ordinary, you know? It’s been happening all the time for so long; it’s barely something he even thinks about now.</p><p>(It’s <em>not</em>.)</p><p>(…Shut up.)  </p><p>Tonight, Guillermo is sitting in the library cleaning a ring, with Nandor draped over the sofa a couple of feet away. The conversation tapered off a few minutes ago, and Nandor has yet to pick up a book to entertain himself. Guillermo can feel him watching his fingers with lazy half-interest. Sometimes Nandor makes up criticisms of his technique for show, especially when there’s someone else around, but the doc crew has split up to track the more exciting misadventures of Nadja, Laszlo, and Colin Robinson tonight, and Nandor postures less when it’s just the two of them alone.</p><p>(Guillermo is pretty sure the crew gets…<em>this</em> by now. Other humans, it turns out, are more observant than vampires about some things — but he can also tell they don’t <em>get</em> it get it. One of them made an unsubtle reference to some study about how people can’t always tell their own feelings of fear and attraction apart, but that’s not it. <em>This</em> — just little moments like right now — <em>that’s</em> it. Well, the fear thing might be part of it, used to be more than it is now for sure, but it’s just one small piece. Sure, it’s <em>cool</em> that Nandor is an ancient, terrifying creature of the night, but also he’s just, like, <em>here</em>. <em>Sitting</em>. And it’s <em>nice</em>, and he’s not scary — not to Guillermo, not <em>really</em>. That’s probably bad, or boring, or proof that Guillermo’s not a kid anymore. But yeah. Shut up.)</p><p>This particular ring’s origin story escapes Guillermo at the moment. He knows the histories of a lot of Nandor’s possessions by now, but he does sometimes forget. Thinking that this would be a good way to prolong the moment, he raises his head to ask Nandor about it.</p><p>Nandor is wearing exactly the soft, bored-but-focused expression Guillermo was expecting, but instead of looking at the ring he’s looking at Guillermo, so when Guillermo looks at him their eyes meet. A bolt of cold lighting shoots up Guillermo’s spine and his fingers clench around the ring, that old familiar chorus <em>this Thing is going to kill you, you are going to die</em> echoing around his head. His hands shake and he almost reaches for a weapon, but it’s over as soon as it starts. A flicker of concern crosses Nandor’s face, but that’s the only evidence that he notices anything.</p><p>“Could you remind me when you got this ring?” Guillermo asks, normal as anything. Nandor hesitates a moment, but the perplexity quickly smooths from his forehead. Guillermo remembers every detail of this story by the time Nandor is five words in, but he takes a short break from the ring just to watch him for a while anyway to calm his nerves (Nandor’s ability to be relaxed and animated at the same time is always fun to look at). It doesn’t take long for his hands to become steady again, and he starts back in on the ring, letting the vampire watch him or not, unobserved, because Guillermo trusts him.</p><p>And it’s nice.    </p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>November 1, 2019</em>
</p><p>His hand never shakes when he kills an assassin. His blood runs cold when he notices them, a flash of fear to spur him to defend himself, but then his instincts take over, and he’s calm. He knows he can do it, every time — and he’s right, every time. He’s capable; he’s good at this — and he’s glad that he is, because it means he can protect what he loves.</p><p>As long as he can keep stopping himself from letting instinct take over when something he loves scares him, everything will be fine.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>February 19, 2020</em>
</p><p>Guillermo still hates cleaning out the cell. During his decade of living in the house, he has spent as little time as possible in the human storage room. The awe — the <em>envy</em> — that the vampires inspire in him has not faded over the years, but that isn’t enough to paint over the depressing ugliness of this sad space anymore. By now Guillermo is very comfortable with death — how could he not be, when he is surrounded by it constantly? — he just doesn’t like to dwell on this form of it more than he needs to.</p><p>He doesn’t know why he’s standing in this horrible little room right now. It’s almost midday; he should be sleeping, but he can’t. He’d go for a walk, but he can’t stand the thought of being in public right now. He tried to do other chores, but he kept dropping things.</p><p>It would almost be better if he was scared. He killed a vampire who was a guest in their home. He put the murder weapons to Nandor’s chest. He should be scared for his life. He should be scared of <em>himself</em>.</p><p>Why isn’t he?</p><p>The cell is clean but for one body with Nadja’s name scrawled across the forehead. This kill must have been easy; there’s hardly any carnage around the slumped figure. There’s a YouTuber Guillermo watches sometimes, a mortician, who talks about sitting with the dead as a positive experience. Guillermo’s never seen the appeal before, but today he lowers himself to sit against the wall opposite the corpse for reasons he couldn’t explain if anyone cared enough to ask.</p><p>The body looks smaller than it is, he thinks. He has a good eye for these things by now; the person this used to be was probably a little shorter than him, maybe 140, 150 pounds post-exsanguination, easy enough to dispose of, if not exactly tiny. But sitting at eye level with it in the midday quiet, it looks almost immaterial to Guillermo. Like a hollow sculpture made of pale crepe. Would he look like this, if Nandor had reacted differently to finding out what he had done to Carol?</p><p>If Guillermo had made a mistake with the wooden broom handle, would there be any substance at all to what would remain of Nandor?</p><p>A draft from the room’s ventilation blows a few strands of the body’s dark hair gently across its downturned face. Despite the gloom, it looks almost pretty.</p><p><em>When did my life get so goddamn weird,</em> Guillermo wonders, then laughs at himself. Stupid question. He leans his head back against the brick, feeling suddenly like he might be able to get a little sleep before sunset after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks very much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!</p><p>btw — the mortician youtuber Guillermo sometimes watches is Caitlin Doughty, aka Ask A Mortician (who I also love). And the study on misattribution of arousal, referred to in September 3, is Dutton &amp; Aron's 1974 article "Some evidence for heightened sexual attraction under conditions of high anxiety"</p><p>Find me on tumblr at <a href="http://sinaesthete.tumblr.com">@sinaesthete</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BET YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN'T FINISH THIS, HUH? <strike>I sure thought I wouldn't lol.</strike> Shout out to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdbitterdays">@weirdbitterdays</a> for encouraging me to get it done!</p><p>I have been spoiled of late with people willing to beta for me. However, like the rest of the chapters here, I have opted to put this one out unbeta'd — oops in advance ~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>March 17, 2020, 4:00 AM</em>
</p><p>Guillermo stands between the papered-over window and the closed door with a stake in his hand and dried blood on his glasses. He’s trying to stand still. Trying, but not quite succeeding: the adrenaline hasn’t worn off from the theater, and Nandor is moving at a glacial pace pulling out the same one fur-lined cape, then putting it back, then pulling it out again indecisively.</p><p>It’s verging on painful to watch. They <em>need</em> to be out of the house as quickly as possible. The two of them, Nadja and Laszlo, and Colin Robinson split in the entryway when they arrived with the agreement that they would pack only the essentials and leave in time to find somewhere to hide before daybreak. Guillermo is not anxious, just on high alert — the adrenaline from the theater is keeping his heart rate is steady but faster than it sometimes is, his muscles supplied with blood so his reflexes will be razor-sharp.</p><p>Nandor, who does not have vitals to keep him on track, seems to be experiencing no such exhilaration. If anything, he seems to be moving more aimlessly than usual. He makes a face and puts the cape back yet again, and Guillermo grinds his teeth together to keep from screaming in frustration.</p><p>“Nandor,” he says, managing to keep most of the edge out of his voice.</p><p>The vampire angles his face toward Guillermo immediately, but it takes his eyes a second to catch up. Guillermo gestures at the travel trunk Nandor has been sluggishly placing his ‘essentials’ in.</p><p>“Are we almost done here?” he asks, and something flashes across Nandor’s eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.</p><p>“No,” he responds. “<em>I </em>am not almost done here.”</p><p>“We really should have been leaving about five minutes ago — earlier than that, if Nadja and Laszlo hadn’t been so picky about their seats in the van earlier… You just need to pack the basics.”</p><p>“I do not know what the basics are! This is not an easy thing to be doing!”</p><p>Guillermo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just think about what you use all the time; it’s really not hard! That cape you keep picking up? You never wear that, so leave it.”</p><p>“But this cape was given to me in —”</p><p>“Yeah, in 1791, by your friend you got executed in France the next year, and you try to be careful with it, I know, but you <em>never wear it</em>, so there’s no point in bringing it as one of the <em>basics</em>. It’s easy.”</p><p>“It is <em>not </em>easy, Guillermo. What if it is not here when we come back here? What if we will be travelling for a very long time, and we do not come back here again ever? I do not want to not have it then. And it is not easy to think about these things with you over there stinking like dead old blood and whining at me about rushing.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry that I haven’t had a chance to shower and change my clothes since I saved you a half hour ago, but I’m only here because the entire vampiric council is actively trying to kill us and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.”</p><p>“Okay, so you are some big-dick big man all of a sudden now telling me to get on my move just because you killed a couple of dozens of vampires? That is not making this to be any easier either, glaring at me over there!”</p><p>Guillermo pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m just telling you, you have bigger problems right now than which capes to bring.”</p><p>Nandor gestures sharply with the cape in his hand. “I know that! You think that I do not know that? I have had many enemies before; I know what is important to take away with me!”</p><p>“No, you obviously don’t!”</p><p>“Why do you not mind your own business, Guillermo?” Nandor snaps, lip curling back from his teeth defensively. “Why are you bothering to be here if you are so angry at me all of a sudden?”</p><p>“Seriously? I’m not <em>angry</em> at you, Nandor, I’m <em>afraid</em> for you!”  </p><p>“Well you should not be!”</p><p>“Fine!” Guillermo snarls, turning on his heel and making for the door. “Fine, if it’ll make this quicker for you, I’ll go check in on Nadja and Laszlo instead.”</p><p>“No, that is not what I —”</p><p>Eyes darkening in frustration, Nandor takes a step toward Guillermo, hand shooting out for him. For the first time that night, theater included, Guillermo flinches. The stake in his hand raises a few inches toward the vampire on instinct, his heart hammering pointlessly against his ribs.</p><p>Nandor stops moving. Guillermo forces himself to let out a slow breath to calm his suddenly hammering heart as Nandor assesses him as he has never done when Guillermo’s involuntary panic response kicked in unexpectedly before. </p><p>“Guillermo,” Nandor says quietly, “Guillermo, you…are you afraid…<em>of</em> me?”</p><p><em>No</em>, Guillermo thinks immediately. It’s been a decade since he was genuinely afraid of Nandor. There is no reason for him to fear Nandor, other than the unnatural chill of his skin and the fangs jutting from his jaw and the vicious glow of his black eyes in the darkness making Guillermo freeze like the prey most of his instincts still tell him that he is. He knows Nandor won’t kill him — probably can’t even conceptualize of killing him, after this long. </p><p>“No,” he says. “We just need to get out of here.” </p><p>His voice sounds tight, though, and he hasn’t managed to persuade his hand holding the stake to fall back to his hip again. The vampire continues watching him with inhuman sharp focus, still as death. The chill festers in his spine, but he does not shiver. If only he would move — if <em>either</em> of them would only move…but a vampire is a patient predator, and if he’s waiting for Nandor to make the first move, they will be frozen here all night.</p><p><em>This Thing is <span class="u">Nandor</span>, and I am <span class="u">not</span> going to die</em>, Guillermo rehearses in his head, willing his heartrate to slow. He forces his arm back down to his side.</p><p>“To be fair though,” he concedes, “you <em>could</em> kill me.”</p><p>Like a cat striking down a bird, Nandor responds, “yes, but I could always do that.”</p><p>“…Well, <em>yeah</em>,” Guillermo agrees. <em><span class="u">Obviously</span></em>, he does not bother to say. He knows Nandor hears the unspoken word anyway. The piercing glow dwindles from the vampire’s eyes, his face slackening until he looks how Guillermo usually sees him again.</p><p>Finally, Nandor swallows, face awash with guilt, and steps back.</p><p>“I could say the same thing about you, you know” Nandor says, voice not soft but somehow small.</p><p>Guillermo almost laughs, because yeah, true. But at the same time, he’s still just a <em>person</em>, talking to a <em>vampire</em>.</p><p>“But you’re…” Guillermo starts, but Nandor’s face twitches and Guillermo pauses. Nandor’s posture has wilted, but none of the tension is gone from it; his jaw is tight as his eyes remain unblinking and locked on Guillermo; his face mostly just seems sad, though his expression has lost none of its vigilance.</p><p>This might be the first time anyone has ever looked at Guillermo quite like this before.</p><p>“But you’re not…” Guillermo starts again, quieter. “Wait. Are <em>you</em> afraid of <em>me</em>?”</p><p>The black eyes look startlingly human when they flash this time. Guillermo sees indignation and challenge there, an echo of the proud warlord he has always known this person used to be — but it has been a long time since then. Guillermo has until now been a domestic presence, submissive and comforting, not anything like an opponent on a battlefield. And Guillermo might be shorter and weaker and ordinary and mortal, but he has just killed a room full of creatures that are what Nandor is.</p><p>Nandor doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t have to. </p><p>Guillermo wonders if this might be satisfying later, when the shock wears off. A million unwanted fantasies of what he might do if he ever found himself with this kind of power over his former master — or any vampire — have played in his head before, but he can’t think of any of them at the moment.</p><p>At the moment, he averts his eyes, because he knows what it is to be stared down by a threat. He backs away, so that Nandor will not have to. And he changes the subject, because the best antidote to terror has always been normalcy.</p><p>“You should take the Russian velvet cape,” he says as casually as he can manage. “You talk about that one just as much as the one you’re trying to decide about, and you actually wear it pretty often.”</p><p>Silence for a moment, then Nandor swallowing. Then, the rustling of rich ancient fabric as the cape he has been holding goes back into the closet and the one Guillermo recommended comes out.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>March 17, 2020, 4:30 AM</em>
</p><p>He’s sitting on the floor in the back of the van trying not to get crushed by Nandor’s trunk on one side or Laszlo and Nadja’s on the other. One of the vampires should have sat between the trunks, he gripes internally. He can lug a corpse around no problem, and the trunks individually are not much heavier than a large body, but they’re ungainly and there are two of them and this would be much easier if the vampires would just space themselves out a bit more instead of all gravitating toward the very back of the van. He’s not a familiar anymore; he should have to hold back all their stuff <em>and </em>the mini fridge they’re not going to be able to drop off in the Bronx until tomorrow thanks to the vampires all taking forever to pack.</p><p>Colin Robinson’s briefcase topples off Nandor’s trunk and onto Guillermo’s head.</p><p>Guillermo swears, and swats the briefcase away from himself. It goes sliding toward the vampires as the camera guy who is driving hits the gas, cracking on his knee in the process.</p><p>“<em>God </em>—” he starts, but reflexively stops. “Sorry.”</p><p>There are no indignant hisses at his brief blasphemy, as there usually would be. No outbursts about him failing to keep all the bags in check. Not even any drawling complaints from Colin Robinson about scuffing the leather of his bland department-store-clearance case.</p><p>Guillermo looks at the vampires, three of them huddled together against the metal doors of the van, watching him with their matching reflective eyes. Like raccoons that can’t get out of the bottom of the dumpster. Colin Robinson’s eyes glow a faint blue looking at the others, but even he is too quiet and still, and his proximity to Laszlo doesn’t seem calculated the way it should be.</p><p><em>They’re <span class="u">all</span> afraid of me now</em>, Guillermo realizes, but it feels like he must have known that already. He nods to himself. His brow knits together, but he’s not sure why.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says again, and reaches to pull the briefcase into his lap.</p><p>“I should damn well hope you are,” Laszlo grumbles, recovering himself more quickly than the others, and begins brushing off the front of his waistcoat as if something bumping against his shoes had somehow dirtied his chest. Nadja shakily follows his lead, and Nandor after her, each taking an unconvincing verbal shot at Guillermo as they settle themselves again.</p><p>By the time the vampires are quiet again, Colin Robinson’s eyes have stopped glowing.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>March 17, 2020, 5:18 AM</em>
</p><p>Guillermo quadruple-checks the curtains on both the rooms they finally managed to booked minutes before the sky is scheduled to start to lighten. Confident that everything will be okay once the sun comes up, he leaves the vampires to decide on the sleeping arrangements between them so that he can give his mother’s address to the doc crew. Guillermo himself needs to say with the vampires just in case anyone comes after them, but the crew agrees to drop off the mini fridge and take the day off from filming. They’ll swing back around in the evening with some of Guillermo’s clothes to find out what the plan is.</p><p>Room 117 is locked by the time the van drives away, so Guillermo assumes that means he has been put in 118. He has already decided that he won’t be upset if all four of the others have decided to share one room and leave him alone in the other. It would be understandable for them to do that. Not <em>smart</em>, maybe — surely it’s safer to keep their guardian as nearby as possible? — but it’s fine. Guillermo will be extra-vigilant at a distance until they decide they get used to seeing him as a potential threat.</p><p>The doorknob turns. The room is dark. Guillermo clicks the lock and pulls the latch with a sigh. The night’s tension washes over him suddenly, now that he is alone. He rests his forehead against the door for a moment, just for a second of quiet, before turning around to try to find a light switch in the blackness.</p><p>Before his fingers find the light, his gaze catches a pair of glowing pinpoints from the depths of the room he believed to be empty. With a rush of last-ditch adrenaline, he pulls a stake from his rig and readies himself to attack or be attacked.</p><p>“Guillermo,” Nandor’s voice, tense and too-high but oddly soothing, says softly. “It is me, Guillermo.”</p><p>And, well, of course it is. Of course it’s Nandor. Guillermo was in this room five minutes ago; he knows that no one has slipped in or out since then because he’s been just outside. There is no reason the light would have been on; Nandor doesn’t need lamps to see, and vampires find comfort in darkness when they are anxious anyway. Guillermo has been on high alert all night, but his vigilance isn’t good for anything if it can’t discriminate between enemies and the vampire he is most concerned with protecting.</p><p>“Sorry,” he breathes. His hand never shakes when they slayer instinct kicks in, but it shakes now as he lowers his arm. “Nandor, I’m just…I’m sorry.”</p><p>The glowing dots stay trained on him as they lower and lean until the lamp between the beds flicks on to reveal Nandor, looking nervous but apologetic.</p><p>It’s probably just the fall after the high, but the corners of Guillermo’s eyes start to prickle as if he might cry. His hand is still shaking too, and the more he thinks about it the more the tremors seem to spread to the rest of his body. He’s not afraid; there’s nothing to be afraid of here. He can feel his heartbeat in his eardrums, but it’s not fast, it’s just loud. This is ridiculous, he thinks, but the more he stands there staring at Nandor staring at him, the worse it gets.</p><p>“You should get some sleep,” he forces out. “I’ll stand guard, just in case…well, just in case. Okay?”</p><p>“You also should be getting some rest,” Nandor says cautiously, perhaps hearing the strain in Guillermo’s voice.</p><p>Guillermo shakes his head. “What if someone tries to get in? No, it’ll be fine, I’m just a little shaken up from the close timing with the sunrise, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”</p><p>“You have already fought tonight,” Nandor returns, as softly as before. “You have made us safe. Rest for now.”</p><p>The vampire steps carefully around the bed toward him. Guillermo fights with his traitorous, ragged nerves not to raise the stake again, but he can’t stop his wrist from twitching. His face burns with embarrassment when Nandor flinches despite his attempt to hide the reflex.</p><p>The vampire sits stiffly down on the bed, but he does not so much as blink. Guillermo wishes he would; it is always the eyes that get him. If Nandor would look away, or close his eyes, anything, maybe Guillermo could get himself together. His legs feel like jelly with how much they are shaking now. He needs to get a grip; there have been so many times over the last eleven years that he has managed to calm himself down from mortal terror so he really should be able to calm himself down now, but this isn’t mortal terror. He’s not sure <em>what</em> this is, but his usual techniques are not doing anything to stop it. Nandor’s eyes look as human as they ever do; they aren’t flashing black; they’re just wide, and uncertain, and guilty, and scared, and it’s awful.</p><p>The instant the thought occurs to him, Guillermo acts on it. Numbly, he raises the stake again, arm shaking like a leaf, this time with the blunt end toward the vampire. Nandor flinches again but otherwise he doesn’t move, even when Guillermo steps toward him. There is a heavy pause; Guillermo feels like his entire soul is being meticulously picked over through his pupils, and for a moment he’s sure there will be a fight or he’ll be sent away. </p><p>But then he feels cold fingertips brush against his warm ones, and the stake is pulled from his grip, and he looks away from Nandor’s face to see the weapon held uncertainly in the vampire’s own hand.</p><p>The shaking stops.</p><p>Nodding more to himself than to Nandor, Guillermo steps back and carefully removes the rig. Nandor just watches, unmoving, stake clenched in his lap, as Guillermo places the rig on the floor, then the stakes he has hidden on his person, then finally the crucifix he has been wearing. He slides his weaponry out of his own reach, runs through his mental catalogue again to make sure he hasn’t missed anything, and exhales.</p><p>“That’s it,” he says.</p><p>There is something paradoxically soothing about being unarmed in Nandor’s presence for the first time in months. Guillermo stands there, stripped of all the tools that make him dangerous to Nandor but his mind, symbolically at the mercy of the vampire, and he feels safe. He is used to be frightened. He is not used to being <em>frightening</em> — not to Nandor, anyway.</p><p>“You can lock that stuff up, if you want to, or just hold onto it yourself,” he says, voice sounding much more normal, and gestures at his pile of weapons. “You’re right; I don’t think anybody is going to try to break in today. I don’t need to have it when it’s just us. I get it, if you’re more comfortable if I don’t have them.”</p><p>“You are not afraid to be without them?” Nandor asks hesitantly.</p><p>“No.” It is an easier answer than it was earlier, at the house.</p><p>“Even though I am here?”</p><p>“<em>Especially</em> because you’re here, honestly.”</p><p>Nandor blinks for the first time since Guillermo entered the room. Then, he sets the stake down carefully on the bed beside him, stands up, and steps forward. <em>He’s really tall</em>, Guillermo thinks, then thinks that if that’s his last thought he’s satisfied with it. But then his thoughts shut down because Nandor is enveloping him in his arms, clinging to him. His muscles feel hard with tension but after all these years, after everything that has happened tonight, Nandor is <em>hugging him</em>.</p><p>So Guillermo hugs him back. He closes his eyes and buries his face in the soft hair against his cheek and feels the cold breath against his throat that should scare him but doesn’t, and waits as slowly, slowly Nandor’s body relaxes against him.  </p><p>Guillermo is used to being defenseless around terrifying predators. He’s not so defenseless anymore; there are a hundred things he could use against a vampire without even counting his own arsenal. Nandor is going to need to get used to Guillermo being a threat to him eventually, just like Guillermo is going to need to get more comfortable keeping his instincts in check where it counts. That will take practice for them both, but for right now, Guillermo doesn’t mind giving them both a break and just being an ordinary, ‘helpless’ mortal again. For right now, he’s happy to let <em>his</em> terrifying predator hold him, and to remember why neither of them needs to be afraid.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for sticking with me through this character study! I very much enjoyed working on it!</p><p>Find me on tumblr <a href="https://https://sinaesthete.tumblr.com/">@sinaesthete</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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